Big Words
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Morgan is put to the test when he and Emily find themselves stranded in the middle of nowhere, and her with a life-threatening injury. Morgan/Prentiss friendship with tinges of more. Set in mid season 7.
1. Chapter 1

_There's an involved explanation as to why I wrote this story, which I'll include after the last chapter (there will be four), so I don't spoil anything. For now enjoy, and thank you for reading!_

_I do need to send out a quick plea, if anyone works in the medical field I could use your expertise. Please PM me or note it in a review!  
_

* * *

_"Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men." - Muhammad Ali_

They had left the buildings and humans back in the small town the team was stationed in. For almost ten minutes they'd seen not a house, or a barn, or a church, or even just a person bicycling. It was just endless trees and hills in this part of Pennsylvania. It was almost strange, serial killers were born, raised and prowled everywhere, from the desert to the city, to this piece of miserably empty land. Well, empty of people.

Emily was certain she'd never seen so damn many trees in her life. Oak, Maple and Poplar, green and full, blocking most of the waning sunlight, and pine and spruce filling in the spaces, blocking whatever light the other trees might have let in. It made the landscape look cool, like autumn when little kids run around in the comfortable weather catching lighting bugs.

It was actually 80 degrees with unbearable humidity.

"Where is this guy supposed to be at?" Morgan asked, turning toward her.

Emily glanced at the directions on her lap, then at the dashboard. "We've gone about eight miles, so another quarter of a mile and there should be a turn-off to his property."

"What's the name?"

"No name, it's just a driveway," she said.

He glanced at her, an 'are you kidding' look on his face. Emily just shrugged.

They were heading to a possible suspect's house to ask him about the murders. The local cops seemed to think it was extremely unlikely the old guy was killing people, but then the bodies were turning up not too far from his middle of nowhere home.

"There!" Emily cried suddenly.

Morgan whipped around. "Where? I don't see it."

"Back there." She gestured behind them.

Grunting his annoyance, Morgan slowed slightly, and jerked the wheel in the FBI defensive driving version of a u-turn. Emily gripped the dash and was momentarily thankful the road was empty. Literally empty.

Going slower now, Morgan noted the turn, and cranked the wheel toward the left, taking them onto a lonely dirt road. The shock absorbers on the SUV were no match for the dusty road, and she felt every dip of a pothole, and awkward shake of the loose stones. Her hands were still holding the dash for dear life.

Morgan suddenly hit the breaks, but not quick enough, and had to jerk the wheel to the left to avoid the thick, low hanging branch that would have torn threw the windshield. Instead, the SUV went off the road into a ditch, where Morgan lost control for only seconds, but long enough for the wheels to swivel and put them in the path of a massive and likely ancient maple tree. Emily cringed, squeezing her eyes shut as they made impact. The crash of metal sounded like demons screaming, and the pop of air bags startled her seconds before it hit her in the face. It all ended with the tired hiss of the engine.

She opened her eyes to find Morgan studying her intently. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Emily took a minute to get her bearings, smacking the airbag out of her way. "Yeah, I don't think I hurt anything. Are you?"

He nodded and grinned. "I've got a hard head."

She smiled. "So what do we do?"

"Go talk to this guy. We're here for it anyway, and he might be able to help us get out of here."

He was already opening his door when she responded, voice low. "And if he's the unsub, we might be really screwed."

The heat outside was a shock to her system, the humidity clinging to her skin, and Emily was estimating five minutes before she was feeling the itch of cleavage sweat. She _hated_ cleavage sweat.

"Damn it." She walked around the car to find Morgan holding up his cell phone and cursing the trees. He looked at her. "No service."

Emily sighed. "Isn't this how horror movies start?"

Morgan grinned and threw an arm around her. "Don't worry, Princess. I'll protect you." She rolled her eyes at him, and he leaned close and whispered. "And, if I remember correctly, there's usually a bit of skin in those flicks, even a little lip action."

Emily scoffed and pushed him away, smiling. "If you find a swimming pool out here, you might just get lucky."

Morgan chuckled and winked at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

They walked up the dirt road, swatting at bugs and trying to appear like stoic professionals even in the oppressive heat. Twenty minutes of walking lead them to a small cabin that looked surprisingly well-maintained, and a compact sedan. Perfect to fit under a low-hanging tree branch that would take out anything taller, like a government issue SUV. Morgan took the lead, and they walked up the front steps to the little front porch and he knocked on the door.

No answer.

Morgan knocked again. Still no answer.

"Mr. Talbot! We're from the FBI, we just have a few questions for you!" Emily called.

They shared a look, and Morgan tried the knob, which turned easily in his hand. Emily nodded that she'd head around back, and almost simultaneously, they drew their weapons, keeping the Glocks aimed at the ground.

She could smell a fire burning and something rotting underneath that, but it was mostly covered by the smell of burning meat. She moved toward the back, her body tensed, bracing for any noise or movement. She heard Morgan enter the house as she got a look at the backyard. There was a worn and possibly handmade table and chair set, and a large fire ring with something black and burning in it. Something human.

Slowly she moved closer, always aware of what was around her. She studied the figure, which while badly burnt, she could still make out characteristics. It was male, older judging from the wrinkled hand hanging out of the fire ring. Their possible suspect.

The unsub was here, he just wasn't the man who lived here. She needed to warn Morgan. Her focus slipped only for a minute, but it was long enough for a man to come out of nowhere and slam into her body. She hollered for Morgan as she fought against the figure, her Glock flying out of her hand. She was on her back, completely prone and hating herself for it when a sharp, agonizing pain hit her right thigh.

Her scream was almost drowned out by the three shots fired into the unsub's body.

* * *

Hearing his partner's blood-curdling scream of agony would definitely be at the top of Morgan's list of most terrifying things ever. Not far below the sound of the bullets impacting his father's body.

He rushed over and pushed the unsub off of her, checking first that he was definitely dead before focusing on Prentiss. She was sitting up now, hands around the knife still imbedded in her thigh, face already two shades paler from the pain. Instead of panicking or whining about the pain, she turned and regarding him calmly. Her face was tight with annoyance, as if a knife protruding from her thigh was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"Well, this is just great," she muttered. The she sighed. "I think he missed the arteries."

He played along. "You certainly have a way with people, Prentiss. What's this going to be, you're fourth hospital visit in five years?"

"Third."

"Third?" He didn't believe that.

"Hotch didn't make me go after the 2x4, I just saw the paramedics." She said this as if she was defending something.

"Right...let me go inside and get first aid supplies. Do not pull that thing out, and don't try to move." He spoke as he picked up her Glock and set it back in her hand.

"Yes sir." She saluted him.

He ignored the sarcasm and headed into the house. It was surprisingly clean and well-maintained, and Morgan was instantly thankful its murdered owner was neat. He didn't spend too much time admiring it though, his body was still trembling, with adrenaline or fear, he wasn't sure. Emily had nearly died again, because he didn't have her back. They should have stayed together to clear the house, then the backyard. He knew that, but they'd split-up anyway, and he hated himself for it.

Still silently admonishing himself, Morgan searched through the house. He assumed the man in the fire outback was the man they'd come to look for, killed so the unsub could use his property. The old guy was unfortunately also modern, so the only phone he could find was a cell phone, which like his own, had no signal. There was also a first aid kit with a small amount of gauze, so he took that and a clean bed sheet and ran back outside to Prentiss.

"You find a phone?" Emily asked.

"No, all he seemed to have was a cell phone. No reception." He knelt down, gently nudged her hands away from the bloody wound, and tried to get a look at it.

"What? Uh, that could be a problem."

"Don't worry, we'll just take the sedan...I'm going to have to tear your pants."

She nodded, much more focused on their lack of transportation. "You found keys?"

"No, but if I can't find them, I'll just hot-wire it." He tore the leg of her pants right off, leaving her right leg in what might have passed for really short shorts.

Emily winced. "You know how to hot-wire a car?"

He grinned at her. "Course I do." Then he focused back on the bloody mess of her leg. His hands were already stained red and she was covered up to her elbows.

"That's going to scar."

He glanced at her disgruntled expression, and turned up the charm. "From the snow-white skin tone, I'm guessing these fine legs don't see much sunshine anyway."

"Ha ha."

"Alright, I'm going to have to move your leg a bit to get the gauze and sheet wrapped around, so this is going to hurt."

She nodded. "Better than bleeding out."

Carefully, Morgan lifted her leg, and wound the small amount of gauze around the dagger, noting with relief that it hadn't penetrated the back of her thigh. Prentiss was tense, and the occasional gasp or whimper came from her mouth, but she didn't complain. He set her leg down to rip the sheet into long, thin strips, and heard her broken warble as he lifted her leg again. He wrapped the limb until the knife was stable in the wound, and wouldn't move around and make the injury worse. That would keep the bleeding to a minimum until they made it to a hospital.

"Alright, let's see if we can get you standing." Morgan put an arm around her waist, and helped ease her off the ground.

"That's not too bad," Emily said thoughtfully. Morgan nodded, and then gestured her to take a step, and but Emily managed only to give an agonized whimper and nearly fall down.

"Okay, okay, easy. There's another way to do this." She looked at him skeptically, and Morgan smiled. Her eyes flew open wide when he swept her into his arms, and headed toward the front of the house.

"I could have walked," she growled.

"Yeah, sure you could have." Ignoring her annoyance at being carried, Morgan headed to the small sedan, and rested her back on her feet near the passenger's side door. He grinned. "Unless of course, you're about to tell me you can drive?"

Emily scowled. "Shut-up and help me in."

Morgan chuckled, and got the door open, helping her ease her way into the seat. He left the door sitting open, rather than have her roast to death while he searched for keys, and took off back to the house and the unsub. He kept the search thorough, but as quick as he could make it, his partner's sickly pallor ever-present in his mind.

He would find keys, and drive back to town for medical assistance. Prentiss would be fine. She'd be hobbling and bitching and moaning, and giving some poor doctor a hard time in hours. At least that's what he told himself. There was a sick feeling burning in the very center of his gut that told him it wouldn't be that easy. He couldn't shake the feeling that something else would go wrong.

And it did.

No keys. He found house keys, but no car keys. Not in the house, the shed, the unsub or the still smoking former late owner of the house.

Minor setback. He could hotwire the car. Twelve year-old, baby-faced Derek Morgan had learned from a couple of the older boys in the gang he ran errands with, and further developed his technique in training for undercover work. Car boosters were more fun than drug dealers or pimps any day.

Morgan slid into the driver's seat, and let his fingers slid along the underside of the steering column.

"No keys?" Emily asked. There were beads of sweat on her face, whether from the heat, the pain or her body's struggle to heal itself he didn't know, and didn't particularly want to find out.

"It's alright, I can hotwire it." He found the bundle of wires, and tugged until they were visible to him. He took the wire cutters he'd found in the house, and snipped the appropriate wire, and carefully pealed away some of the colored casing so the actual wire was exposed. Holding the cover part of the wire, and put the two ends together, waiting for a spark that didn't come.

Emily didn't comment, but he could feel her watching him, almost sense her anxiety growing.

"It's alright, I got it," he insisted. He kept trying, earning the slightest rumble that abruptly died. He twisted the ends together and cut one of the other wires. He knew it wouldn't work, that he'd picked the right wire the first time, and to prove him right, the windshield wipers starting moving, squeaking obnoxiously against the dry glass. He let those pieces fall apart and tried another wire, keeping up the cycle until he had no more wires left to try.

This was not fucking happening.

"So this day just keeps getting better and better," Emily said. She was watching him, and he knew that look on her face. It was that don't try to bullshit me, I know we're in trouble look.

Morgan sighed and slammed a hand against the steering wheel. Emily didn't flinch, or react except for a barely perceptible lift in her eyebrows. "Alright," he said suddenly, "There should be cell reception by the road, I'll just carry you down the drive, and call the team from there."

"Or you could just leave me here and go down yourself," she suggested.

"No," he said. He was not leaving her injured and alone, not for any length of time or any reason. Not when his stomach was twisting sickly around itself, and his mouth was dry from the bad memories floating through his brain.

"Why not?"

"Just no."

"Come on Morgan, you can't carry me that far without hurting yourself."

He shook his head. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

Emily groaned. "I won't consent to this plan until you tell me why you don't just leave me here."

"You don't need to consent, I'll just grab you."

"You want to put that theory to the test?" She asked.

Now Morgan groaned. "Because I got visions of coming back to find you dead. So, no, alright?"

That shut her up, and Morgan didn't waste another minute in the car. He tucked his cell phone into his pocket, and ran around to the passenger's side. He opened the door to find Emily waiting with an uneasy expression on her face.

"At least stretch or something so you don't hurt yourself," she said.

Morgan obeyed. "You seem to think you weigh a ton. I hate to break it to you princess, but you aren't that big."

She just rolled her eyes.

After a minute, he got close to her, directed her to swing her arms around his neck, and lifted her easily into his arms. "See, this isn't so bad. I bench press more than you."

"Yeah, yeah, He-man."


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's the next chapter, and after this chapter the rest of the team will be more involved. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favorited!_

* * *

It took Morgan about half an hour to get down the driveway with Prentiss in his arms, it only took ten of those for him to realize she was already weakening and trying to hide it. He had to wonder if her eagerness to get him going without her was really because it was more practical, or more because she was trying to protect him from watching her die. Neither scenario would be out of character for her.

When the reached the road to town, Morgan gently set her on the ground, and then yanked out his cell phone. He ignored the sweat running down his face and his back, and the thud in his chest from the effort as he studied the face, checking for reception. Not a single bar. Not one. Taking a deep breath, he held the phone up and walked around the area with it trying to find a signal. There was nothing.

"This is not fucking happening," he spit.

"Fraid so." He turned to Emily's dejected voice to see her closing her own cell phone.

"Why didn't we take SAT phones to this damn hole of a town?"

"It will be fine. You can jog into town and get help, it's less than 10 miles from here."

Morgan huffed and stomped over to her. "How can you be so goddamn calm? You have a knife sticking out of you thigh, Prentiss! You are already bleeding through some of those bandages!"

"Because Morgan, only one of us can freak out at a time!" She said.

"I am not freaking out! I'm being pissed off!"

"Well tone down your pissyness, and run into town and get some help!"

Morgan gritted his teeth. "Damn it, I am not leaving you alone!"

"Then you can watch me bleed to death!" she hissed.

He quieted for a moment. "I'll just carry you."

Emily immediately started shaking her head. "That's nuts. You can run into town in an hour or two, it will take like five to walk it while carrying me, and that's if you don't collapse in the middle."

Even sitting on the ground with him towering above her, she did not back down. "It's already getting dark, we have no idea what else is in these woods, and you're already getting weaker. Besides, it might only take twenty minutes of walking to get a signal."

"I am not getting weaker, I'm fine."

"I can hear it in your voice, Prentiss. Damn it, I could feel it in your body when I carried you! Don't lie to me!"

She glared, then huffed. "Fine. I'm not _fine_. But, I'm not dead yet either."

Morgan stood there, staring down at his extraordinarily stubborn partner, chest almost heaving with his aggravation. He made a decision. "Give me your Glock."

"Why?" She said, even as she unclipped it and handed it to him.

Morgan tucked it in the back of his waistband, and crouched down next to her. He unzipped her boots and carefully worked them off, ignoring the confused looks from Emily.

"If you're trying to stop me from running away, I wouldn't worry, the knife is pretty debilitating."

"No. I'm making you a little lighter."

"I thought you said I was already light."

"For thirty minutes you're a feather, but for a few hours? You're more like a brick." He finally looked at her, smile full of charm on his face. "No offense."

"None taken. But I still think you're nuts. You'll kill yourself trying to carry me that far."

"Now you just let me worry about that, Princess." He helped her get to a standing position, and then swept her up into his arms.

* * *

It was about an hour into their walk that Morgan started to think the plan could have problems. His body was already screaming with the effort, his shoulders aching, lower back sore, even though he was carrying her properly, and his legs felt heavier than he remembered. Those were his problems. Prentiss had a whole other set.

She'd stopped asking if he was okay every two seconds about twenty minutes ago, which normally he'd appreciate, but frankly, he was worried it meant she was weakening. It was definitely taking more effort for her to breathe, and she was beginning to actually relax in his arms. He needed to get her to safety and needed to do it quickly.

"Prentiss." She didn't respond. "Prentiss!"

Her head jerked. "What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing except you just scared the hell outta me. You fell asleep?"

She looked away and mumbled, voice sheepish, "Sorry."

"Don't be, you should be saving as much of your energy as possible." If Emily Prentiss could fall asleep while being carried in his arms, then she was most definitely getting weaker.

"I'm fine," she said.

Morgan didn't even bother rolling his eyes, but slowed his pace, eventually stopping and setting her down. First he pulled out his phone, and seeing 'No signal' still flashing at him, he almost threw it against a tree.

"I'm guessing that look means I shouldn't even bother checking?" Emily asked, squinting up at him.

"You guessed right. You remember how long we were without service on the drive in?"

She shrugged. "I don't think either of us really looked at our cells until we crashed."

He nodded, stowed his phone once again in his pocket, and then pulled off his sweat-soaked t-shirt.

"You should leave it on, you'll get sunburn."

Morgan looked at her. "I have dark skin, I don't get lobster red like you do, Princess."

"When have you ever seen me get lobster red?" She asked, pointedly.

He tossed his shirt into the trees, quickly stretched his upper-body and scooped her back into his arms. "Maybe if you saw more sun, I'd actually see you go lobster red."

"You have a valid point there. We don't exactly have much time for vacation though."

He thought a moment. "I'll make you a deal, girl. We get out of this, we're bound to have some time off, we'll hit a beach, some place exotic."

"Morgan, I'm going to be on crutches after we get out of this, that isn't exactly that state I want to be in on vacation."

"Don't worry, I'll make it worth it. And, you'll probably be in a wheelchair, not crutches."

She scoffed. "Not likely."

He shook his head and smiled, thinking of the poor SOB on-call in the ER today. He had no idea what was coming his way.

* * *

Emily was starting to wonder if, even with Morgan's Herculean efforts, she would survive this. He'd been carrying her for two and a half hours now, and he was already struggling. Not that she could blame him. She wasn't a heavy woman, but she was still a whole human adult he was carrying.

"Hey," she said, "are you doing okay?"

"Never better."

"You should take a break."

He shook his head. "I can go a bit further."

Emily pursed her lips, taking a minute to gather her patience. "I don't doubt that you can, but please, take a break."

Several seconds of silence, and then he sighed. "Fine."

Once again, he slowed to a walk, and gently deposited her on the forest floor. Two and a half hours of early evening hours, and not a single damn car went by, and there was still no signal. She'd taken to checking while he trudged on. At first, he'd ask for an update, and she'd confirm there was nothing, but eventually he stopped asking. Was there really no cell service on this whole damned road?

Morgan bent over at his waist, breathing heavily in and out, the abs he was so proud of contracting with his breaths. Then he stood abruptly, moved away from her, and spit into the woods.

Emily let her eyes go toward her thigh, noting a few more layers of bed sheet seemed to be soaked. It fit with the complete lack of energy she was feeling. She didn't even bother sitting where Morgan put her, rather she laid. She was too damn tired to sit up, too weak to manage it.

Shit.

He came back to where she could see him, still stretching himself out, but stopped abruptly as their eyes met. She could tell the exact moment that realization hit him, the second he knew what she'd already figured out.

Suddenly, Morgan crouched down next to her. "No," he said firmly. "No."

She opened her mouth, but then just as quickly closed it and shook her head, the back of it rocking uncomfortably against a root in the ground.

He once again lifted her up, and began to walk. Emily took a moment to work up her courage and energy. "I need you to understand, Derek. If I don't…it's not your fault."

"Don't. Not now."

"Yes. I need to know that if I don't survive this, you won't blame yourself, you won't let the guilt swallow you."

Teeth greeted, he responded. "I already buried you once, Prentiss. I won't do it again."

She sighed. "You may not have a choice."

"No." That was all he said, one very firm, determined word.

Emily let her head rest against his shoulder, too tired to bother arguing more. The best she could hope was that Garcia and the team would take care of him if she died. If anyone could rip him out of a depressive funk it would be the self-proclaimed tech goddess. Or maybe a trip to Chicago to see his mother and sisters would help.

Either way, Emily was pretty sure without some sort of miracle, she wasn't going to last through this.

"Tell me about your favorite vacation." His voice startled her.

"What?"

"Your favorite vacation." She waited for further explanation and was rewarded after several awkwardly silent seconds. "If you're talking, I know you're alive."

She was too stunned to speak for several moments, but then cleared her throat. "I was 20, a couple of my girlfriends from Yale and I went to Cambodia over the summer," she started.

* * *

Four hours.

He'd been pushing threw the pain, and exhaustion for four hours, and it felt like they were still no closer to the town. His body ached, and he honestly wasn't sure how much further he could go on. Except indefinitely.

He would press on. He would get her help. No matter what it took. Because he for damned sure was not carrying her coffin again. He'd much rather carry her bleeding body four, five, six hours to a hospital, than march her coffin for ten minutes through a cemetery. He could not watch them put her in the ground again. So, he marched on.

In the last hour and a half, Emily had told him about hanging out in Cambodia with her college girlfriends, going to Costa Rica alone after college, and the moment during her rough CIA training that she was certain they'd picked the wrong girl. What she'd described sounded more like military training to him – she'd had a fifty pound pack slung across her back, a AK-47 over her shoulder, and she crawled through a muddy field. That was training at The Farm, she'd explained. If you don't break in training, they had a reasonable expectation that you won't break in the field.

She'd started telling him about her first assignment, a small little undercover opp, which only lasted an evening and a day, but he'd cut her off. Her speech was so slow and meandering, she sounded almost drugged. She needed to save her energy. So Morgan instead periodically yelled her name to wake her up just so he'd know she was alive. That, and he usually had her check her cell for a signal.

On this particular road from hell, there was really no service at all.

"Em," he said. She didn't stir, so he yelled as usual. "Emily!"

She still didn't stir.

Morgan began to panic, stopping short and dropping to his knees, yelling her name. He rested her on his legs, and tapped her face. She didn't wake. He shook her, and she didn't react. "Oh, no, no, no. Please god, no."

He felt along her throat, calloused fingers gliding over her skin, looking for a pulse. There it was. Weak, but still present. He searched for his cell, emotional state making his fingers clumsy, only to find they were still without service.

Morgan let out a sigh, and then abruptly covered his mouth as tears pricked his eyes. A moment to catch his breath, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, and lifted her into his arms again. His body was screaming in protest, muscles feeling like they were on fire, legs like weights were attached, but he pressed on.

He didn't just continue walking, he quickened his step. He power-walked, almost jogged. Lungs pumping almost painfully at the effort, Morgan pushed himself past even of what he believed he was capable. She would not die. Not today. Not as long as there was breath in his body.

* * *

JJ was fidgeting in the passenger's seat, and Hotch had to resist scolding her like a child. She was worried, they were all worried. Morgan and Prentiss should have been back hours ago. If they got detoured they should have called, but their phones both kept going to voicemail. Twenty minutes ago, seeing his team's complete inability to focus on the case, he had dropped his own poor pretense of concentration, and ordered everyone to SUVs to start searching.

Reid and Rossi each took a Deputy and headed out in separate directions, the Sheriff coordinated with his remaining men, sending them on patrols, and Hotch took JJ with him to the house their missing teammates were supposed to investigate. Or at least, they were on the way there.

If he was honest, if it had been Morgan and anyone else, they might not all be so worried, but ever since they very nearly lost Prentiss to Ian Doyle's already blood-stained hands, the team was a little sensitive about her safety. Not to the point where they were freaked over her being in the field, but enough that mysterious disappearances would definitely have everyone a little upset. Not that they weren't worried about Morgan as well, but Prentiss had more of a habit of getting her ass in trouble.

"Shit," JJ cursed to him. She was looking down at her phone.

"What?" _Please don't say someone found bodies._

"No service."

"What?" He repeated, disbelieving.

"We have no cell service out here. I guess the cell tower is on the other side of the town." She sighed and shut the phone harder than necessary.

"That might be a good thing. Morgan and Prentiss may just not have cell service."

"They have an SUV," she reminded him.

He contemplated that. "Flat tire?"

"They have a spare."

Silence. "Two flat tires?"

JJ smirked. "Been awhile since I've seen you worried, Hotch."

"I'm not worried," he insisted.

"Two flat tires?"

He gave her his patented glare, which of course, had no affect on her. Her was pretty sure the only one of them it still had an affect on was Reid, and even sometimes that was questionable.

"Hotch, what's that?" She pointed through the windshield, coming toward them on their side of the street.

He squinted. It looked like a figure. A dark-skinned figure jogging. A bald, dark—shit. He sped up, and then pulled over abruptly.

"Oh my god," he heard JJ utter, just before he jumped from the car.

Morgan had stopped his body heaving, his shirt gone, Prentiss unconscious in his arms, a knife sticking out of her thigh. Around the knife was what looked to be blood-soaked bandages of some kind. Her hands were bloody as well, almost up to her elbows.

"H-hospital," he said, gulping for breath. "Alive, she ne-needs, hos-hospital."

"Okay, we have no cell service, help me get her into the car," Hotch said, not sure if Morgan would even let him take her out of his arms.

The younger man nodded, and moved closer, while JJ opened the back door. Together they gently maneuvered Emily onto the seat, and then Morgan stepped back. Hotch turned to him, and noted that her blood was smeared all over his chest, arms, and hands.

"What happened?" JJ asked. Morgan didn't immediately respond, he looked like he was trying to catch his breath, so Hotch turned just for seconds to look at Prentiss. JJ's voice had him whipping back around in seconds. "Oh my god, Morgan!"

Hotch turned just in time to watch him hit the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

"Aaron! What the hell happened?" Rossi and a local officer rushed into the hospital.

Hotch ran a hand over his face. "I don't know. We were driving, and Morgan was running, carrying Prentiss. She lost a lot of blood, and he collapsed before he could tell us anything. I sent the locals to check out the scene."

JJ looked from man to man, breaking her gaze from her hands. She'd washed them, but she couldn't help but feel Emily's blood was still all over them.

Hotch had driven toward town like a bat out of hell, and JJ had crouched in the back, keeping both of her unconscious friends from rolling around the car. Neither regained consciousness before they got to the hospital, and JJ was afraid for them.

"Alright, I'm heading to the scene. I'll call you when I get there," Rossi said.

Hotch nodded. "Reid is heading over there too, he'll probably get there before you do."

Rossi nodded and left the hospital.

JJ bit her lip. "This can't be happening."

He turned to her. "It's a dangerous job."

She shot him a look that was somewhere between bitchy and sarcastic, and instead pulled out her phone. Garcia hadn't been notified yet. She hadn't even been told that Emily and Morgan were missing, the four of them had mutually agreed not to unnecessarily alarm the tech.

"Greetings, you've reached the Emporium of Awesomeness, how may I direct you call?" Garcia bubbled on the other end of the line.

"So, the Goddess of Wisdom moved to the Emporium of Awesomeness now?"

"What's wrong?" Suddenly her joyousness faded. She must have heard the weariness in JJ's voice.

"Derek and Emily never came back from the interview they went on. We waited a while and then went out looking. Derek didn't seem injured, but-" She struggled to keep the emotion out of her voice. "He lost consciousness, and so far hasn't regained it. We're at the hospital now."

Garcia was silent for several seconds, except for the small noises of her gathering herself. "What about Emily?"

"She lost a lot of blood. She'd already lost consciousness by the time we found them."

"But she's alive?"

"Yes…she's alive."

Garcia released a sigh. "Oh, thank god…wait, how did she lose blood? What actually happened?"

"We aren't sure yet. Rossi and Reid went to the house to check things out, but when we found them, Emily had a hunting knife stuck in her thigh."

"She-what? Oh god…"

JJ wondered if Garcia was thinking the same thing she was, _it was better than a table leg._

* * *

"Reid." The genius whipped around at his name to see Rossi had just arrived at the crash site. He walked back out to meet the older man.

"How're Morgan and Emily?"

Rossi shook his head, walking forward, meeting him just behind the busted SUV's back bumper. "They don't know yet. What did you find here?"

"They crashed. There's no blood in the car though, and both airbags deployed. I called CSU from the local field office to come and process everything."

"Good. Have you been to the house yet?"

Reid shook his head. "Not yet, we saw this and stopped to check it out. I was just conjecturing that they must have gotten out and headed toward the house, probably hoping they'd find a phone."

"Safe bet is they didn't," the older man said. Reid had to agree with him.

After another few minutes of poking around they headed up toward the house. Reid was dreading what they'd find. He was set firmly in denial, refusing to acknowledge that either of his friends could die tonight. He didn't know what he'd do without either of them, and he was reasonably certain he wouldn't be able to handle burying Emily again. Being forced to do it twice would just be inhumane…for all of them.

They smelled it almost as soon as they stepped out of the cars, faint but it was there. He exchanged a look with Rossi, and both pulled out their Glocks and started slowly toward the back of the house. The smell got stronger as they moved, so what they found wasn't exactly a surprise, but plenty gruesome enough to play a staring role in one of his nightmares.

A half burned corpse that looked like it was already a few days ripe. Reid could make out patches of gray rotting flesh around the patches of black flaking skin. And older man, broad, stocky build, and one wrinkled hand hanging outside the fire ring. Burning human flesh and hair and rotting meat. If hell were ever to release a fragrance all it's own, surely that would be it.

Next to the burnt corpse was another, much fresher than the first, lying face-up and undoubtedly the person responsible for putting Morgan and Emily into the hospital. He was younger than the other body, and probably would have been handsome if he'd spent less time outside. His skin was rough and weather-worn, and there was a scar on his neck that was thick and ugly, probably never looked at by a doctor. There were also three bullet holes in his thick chest, and Reid took some satisfaction in that.

"So, here are a few pieces to the puzzle," Rossi said, stowing his weapon.

"They found the unsub," Reid agreed, then turned to the older agent with a curious look. "But, how did they get from here to where Hotch and JJ picked them up without a car?"

Rossi opened his mouth to speak, but then just released a breath. "Do you think it's medically possible for Emily to have walked that distance with a knife in her thigh?"

He considered that, running the numbers in his head: the distance, Emily's health, the rate at which she'd likely bled, the presumable extent of the injury, the time it would take to walk, and every other measure he could think of. "Well, Hotch said they'd only been on the road for about five minutes, which at forty miles an hour is about 3.3 miles, and it's almost 10 miles to this driveway, which would leave six miles - "

"Reid." Rossi cut him off. "Think in your head, you're making me dizzy."

He finished his calculations. "Well, she would have had to walk six miles from this house to where Hotch and JJ found them, so I'd say no. That would be hours of sublimating the pain, and while if anyone could do that, I'd say it would definitely be Emily, I don't think she'd be able to survive long enough. The effort she'd have to put forth to do that and the activity of the actual walking would increase her heart rate to a point where she'd probably have bled out. That's if she could have even managed to walk on it, which is frankly, pretty doubtful."

He could have been talking about peanuts for all the emotion in his voice, but he couldn't afford to feel right now. Later, but not now. Rossi either didn't notice or more likely, chose to ignore it. He could have been talking about peanuts too.

"Alright, well it might not have been all the way, Hotch said Morgan was carrying her when they found them - " Suddenly the older man stopped, then looked at Reid thoughtfully. "Do you think Morgan could have carried her that distance?"

That _really_ made Reid think. But this he didn't need to think through it as thoroughly, this one he knew the answer just from what Garcia would describe as listening to his heart. "Yes."

The older man's eyebrows rose. "What, no long-winded explanation?"

"If Morgan believed she'd die if he didn't, then definitely I'd say he could. Physically, he's healthy, and works out regularly enough that carrying her for a little while wouldn't put that much strain on him."

"Yeah, but this isn't _a little while_, Reid. This is hours, we're talking."

"I'm aware of that, and I still think he could." Rossi didn't yet seem convinced. "You've heard of mothers lifting cars off their children, things like that?" He nodded. "People are capable of superhuman feats of strength when it comes to the people they love, and Morgan…he already lost her once. Do you think he'd let six miles come between him and saving her life? Because, I certainly don't."

Rossi opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, then finally settled on, "I need to call Hotch."

* * *

"Agents?" Hotch turned at the doctor's voice, JJ mimicking his movements. "Yes, Doctor?"

"You told the nurse that Agent Morgan may well have carried his partner for several hours?" He was an older man, but still a head of thick hair, and somehow not weary after god knows how many years in the ER.

"Yes, we believe he did." Rossi had explained his and Reid's conclusions, and frankly, Hotch couldn't argue with them. Morgan would move heaven and earth to save his partner.

The doctor nodded. "Agent Morgan presented with extreme exhaustion and dehydration. We have him on an IV drip, and he should wake-up when his electrolytes return to normal level. His blood pressure and pulse were extremely high, but they have dropped since you brought him in, and we'll continue monitoring him closely. I'm also concerned about the damage he may have done to his joints, muscles and tendons. As I'm sure you're aware, human bodies aren't meant for that kind of prolonged feat of strength. We won't know if there was damage or the extent of it until he's awake and complaining of pain."

"What kind of damage might we expect?" Hotch asked.

The doctor sighed. "Grade II, possibly Grade III muscle strains in his shoulders, arms, legs, and back, possibly torn tendons. We've already found some swelling around his shoulders, elbows, and knees, and bruising around his shoulders, so a nurse is icing the areas for now."

JJ bit her lip. "Bruising?"

"From ruptured capillaries. It's not too serious in and of itself, but does suggest some pretty significant damage."

Hotch wasn't sure if he should feel relief or panic from that. "And the treatment?"

"Ice, pain meds, physical therapy, possibly surgery. My concern is if the strains are as widespread as I think, we'll need to keep Agent Morgan at the hospital for a week or more just to give his body enough time to rest."

"Whatever you need," Hotch nodded. "Do you have any information on Agent Prentiss?"

"Still in surgery, I'm afraid. But, I'll make sure someone comes to update you as soon as they finish." He paused then. "She did lose quite a bit of blood though, if you'd like to do something, we accept blood donations down the hall."

"Thank you, Doctor. We'll be happy to do that." Hotch extended a hand, which the doctor accepted.

"Can we go in and see Derek?" JJ asked.

"Yes, that should be fine. Room 403." With that the doctor disappeared down the hallway, presumably to attend to another patient.

JJ pulled out her cell phone. "I'll update Garcia, do you want to update Rossi and Reid?"

* * *

Morgan was afraid. Fear was pressing in on all sides of him like a heavy, suffocating force, and he couldn't break through it. Something bad had happened. The feeling of dread followed him like a devil on his tail, and he couldn't shake it.

There were voices.

Familiar voices. They broke through the oppressive net of fear, and helped pull him through it. He clung to those voices, and let them guide him, searching them out as they grew louder and clearer. Then light hit his eyelids, and pain shot through his body. His arms, his legs, his back, his shoulders, everything ached like he'd just been through boot camp. He groaned, and started to peel his eyelids up.

"Morgan?" JJ's voice. "Morgan, it's okay, we're here. Reid's calling a nurse."

He squinted at the bright light, and slowly took in the faces of his friends and colleagues. They were standing there, watching him, faces creased in worry, and Reid fidgeting with his hands. Fidgeting. Emily always fidgeted, like her body couldn't contain her natural inclination to act. He scanned the faces again.

A whole new kind of pain hit him.

"Prentiss," he said, voice raw. He tried to move, but his aching body screamed in protest, and he fell back on the bed, his chest heaving.

"Take it easy, kid." Rossi laid a gentle hand on his chest.

"Emily," he pressed, "what happened?"

"She's still in surgery," Hotch said. "We don't know anything else yet."

"She's still alive?"

"Yes, she is."

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave; she had survived until the hospital. He'd gotten her to safety, for now. Then the distraction gone, the pain came racing back, nearly overwhelming him.

"Yes – oh." A nurse appeared, and cut herself off upon seeing him conscious. He winced and her brow furrowed and she walked closer. "How're you doing, Agent Morgan?"

"Not good."

"Let me get you something for the pain, and page the doctor. I'll be right back."

She was too, with a smile and a syringe of god-only-knew-what, which she promptly stuck into his IV line. "The doctor should be here any minute, honey."

"Thanks." The drugs took affect quickly, quieting the shrieking agony in his joints and muscles. The nurse made to leave again, but Morgan stopped her. "Hey, uh do you know anything about Emily Prentiss?"

She frowned, and shook her head. "Sorry, I don't know anything."

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Morgan's doctor appeared with a scrub nurse at his side. "I told you, you could find them here."

She looked at the group. "You're all here for Emily Prentiss as well?"

"Yes," Morgan said quickly. "You know something?"

"Agent Prentiss made it through surgery. Her doctor will be by to tell you more after they get her in Post-Op care."

Morgan let out a massive sigh, and let his head fall back onto the pillow. His eyes slipped shut, and he just breathed. The vice around his chest loosened, and he could inhale again. He could stop seeing his best friend dead in his arms.

"Thank you very much," he heard Rossi say.

Then the doctor with her spoke. "Alright, I need to clear the room so I can examine Agent Morgan. You all can see him again in about thirty minutes."

He resisted the urge to groan. Morgan hated hospitals and doctors and gowns that left his ass swinging in the breeze, and most of all, he hated being poked and prodded.

* * *

Emily's doctor came to find them fairly soon after they left Morgan's room. She was a petit woman, but visibly fit and with a presence that belied her small frame. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her face was drawn with exhaustion. Still, she offered a small smile and a hand to each of them in greeting. Rossi found himself instantly receptive to her.

"I'm Dr. Compton, I performed the surgery to repair Agent Prentiss's leg," she said, barely pausing before continuing. "It was a clean cut, and thanks to the cloth wrapped around the knife, the blade didn't move and cause more damage. It was a pretty deep cut though, but it only nicked the bone, so it didn't do much damage to it. What all that boils down to, is that we repaired most of it with surgery, but she's going to be on crutches for months, and she'll need physical therapy. After the PT she should continue to walk, run, swim, and all that just fine."

"That's it then?" JJ asked. "She's going to be fine?"

Dr. Compton bit her lip. "That's the other thing. Her leg will be fine, but she also lost a massive quantity of blood. She was already unconscious when she got to us, and we don't know for how long. She had also stopped breathing, which may have depleted the oxygen levels in her brain. When the oxygen supply to the brain runs low, brain damage can occur - "

"You think she could be brain damaged?" Rossi's head was spinning at the thought, and his stomach began to ache.

"It's a possibility that I want you all to be aware of, and for which you should prepare her family."

"We are her family," Reid said.

The doctor nodded. "Good then, that's done." The young doctor seemed to take in their tired, confused and hurt faces, and take pity on them. "It isn't a certainty. We intubated her, so she's getting plenty of oxygen now. We also have her hooked her up to an EEG to monitor her brain function. So far it looks normal, but we'll have to assess her when she wakes up. We're cautiously optimistic."

"When can we see her?" Rossi asked.

"Soon. It will have to be one or two at a time though. We've got her in the ICU for now. I'll have a nurse come get you when we're ready." She paused. "Any other questions?"

"Yes," Rossi said. "When do you think Agent Prentiss would be fit to be moved to a hospital closer to home?"

"Well, she's out of surgery and stable, so you could move her now if you really wanted to, but I'd like to wait until she wakes up at least." The doctor waited another minute, and when they didn't respond further, she turned and left.

Dave inhaled slowly, studying his friend's faces. It was a hell of a blow to hear that after the joy they'd all felt that she'd survived surgery. He cleared his throat, though his mouth still felt heavy as he spoke. "We do not tell Morgan about this. She made it through surgery, her leg will be fine, that's all he needs to know."

"You want us to lie to him?" Reid gaped at him.

"Telling him that Emily might be brain damaged would devastate him, and we need him in good spirits for his own recovery." He knew Reid was thinking about the massive lie they'd all been told a year ago, and that this wouldn't sit well with the young man.

"Dave is right," Hotch agreed. Reid looked at the ground, averting his eyes from them.

"What about Garcia?" JJ asked.

"Do you think she'll be able to keep it from Morgan?"

The blond was silent in thought a minute, her face drawn with stress and lack of sleep. "Yes. If she knows it's to protect him, I think she will."

Hotch spoke for him. "Then tell her."

Rossi was certain that he didn't want to betray the Tech's trust again.

* * *

_Thank you **InMyIvoryTower** for your help on the medical aspect of this (and the last chapter), it is very, very helpful!_

_Thank you all so much for the reviews on this story! There's only one more chapter left, and this story will be done._


	4. Chapter 4

Emily came back into her own mind slowly. The first thing she sensed was light, followed by the suffocating feeling a plastic tube shoved down her throat. Her eyes flew open, and she began to gag. A hand came to rest over her chest. Rossi.

"It's okay. I've called for a doctor, she'll get the tube out," he said. He moved his hand to take hers, and gave it a squeeze.

She tried to relax back against the bed, but found it impossible. Her throat ached and she felt like she might vomit.

The door to the room blew open, and a redhead walked in, walking to the side of the bed opposite Dave. Her voice was firm, but kind when she spoke. "Welcome back, Emily. I'm Dr. Compton, and I need you to just relax for a minute, then we can get that tube out, okay?"

Emily tried to nod, and then grunted at the discomfort of the movement. The doctor shut off the ventilator, and unhooked the hose from the mouthpiece.

"When I tell you to, I need you to breathe out as hard as you can, okay?" She asked.

Emily offered a half nod, as Compton removed the tape from the sides of her mouth. When she heard the doctor say, "Now," Emily breathed as hard as she could, and squeezed Rossi's hand. The sensation of the tube being pulled up her throat made her gag slightly as it was expelled, and her throat stung from it.

"Easy, you're okay. Lie back now," the doctor said.

Emily fell heavily back onto the bed, chest heaving from the effort. Her voice was hoarse and throat achy as she spoke. "Not d-dead."

"No, you aren't." Rossi smiled. "You seem to be perfectly normal as well."

She frowned at that, not sure what he meant. Dr. Compton commanded her attention then.

"Can you tell me your name, date of birth, the name of the current president, and where you are?" She shined a small flashlight in Emily's eyes, and handed her a cup of ice with a spoon, presumably delivered by the nurse suddenly standing beside her.

Emily swallowed some of the chips, but when she spoke her voice was still raspy. "Emily Prentiss, October 12, 1970, Barak Obama, and a hospital."

Compton smiled. "That's great." She looked up at Rossi. "I'm still going to send a neurologist in, just to be thorough, but I don't expect he'll find anything."

"Neurologist?" Emily rasped, wincing as the incision in her leg began to throb now that she was fully conscious. She forced herself to suppress the pain.

Rossi looked back at her. "You lost a lot of blood, Emily."

She released a tired breath as realization hit. "Brain damage."

Dave smiled. "Should have known better with that hard head of yours."

Emily smirked, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace of pain. Then another thought struck her. "Morgan?"

"He's okay, though it looks like you two will be in the hospital together." When she opened her mouth to ask, he continued. "He has Grade III muscle strain in his shoulders, and Grade II strain in his elbows, knees and back, along with some swollen tendons. They're doing ice therapy and steroids right now for the pain. After a week they said he can switch to NSAIDs, and can start physical therapy."

Emily wanted to cry. Morgan had nearly destroyed his body to get save her life. She blinked away the tears pricking her eyes, and removed her teeth from where they sat in the flesh of her bottom lip. "How far…" She coughed and swallowed. "How far did he carry me?"

"With that driveway, we're estimating just under six and a half miles."

Tears pricked her eyes again. "Can I see him?"

She began to cough soon after speaking, and Rossi waited until she'd stopped and was sipping water to speak. "Not just yet, kid. You're in ICU, you aren't going anywhere until they move you out, and Morgan isn't allowed to move. You know that whole rest, ice…" He waved his hand in an "and so on" motion.

"Home?"

"Well, you guys caught the unsub, so we're just finishing up paperwork now. You and Morgan will stay here overnight, and as long as your doctor okays it we'll have you transferred to D.C. in the morning. Be warned though, in an ambulance it's going to be a four-hour drive back."

Emily swallowed some chips to lubricate her throat, the increasing ache in her leg making the pain in her throat harder to ignore. "With Morgan?"

The older man smiled. "Yeah, cramming two beds in one ambulance will save the Bureau insurance carrier some money. Now, you really need to get some rest, and I need to find your doctor to start you on pain meds."

* * *

Morgan woke in the morning to the ache returning to this body. The steroids were wearing off, and without those his whole body ached. Last night he'd needed the drugs just to be able to move his arms enough to eat. He almost couldn't believe how much damage he'd done to himself, and did not look forward the necessary physical therapy to get himself back together.

It was worth it though. More than worth it, really.

Emily was okay. It would take awhile for her leg to heal, but she was alive and could go back to active duty in year, even less if she was lucky. And there was no sign of brain damage, a possibility he was informed of only after a neurologist gave her a clean report last night. He was still a little pissed at the team for not telling him.

The ache got worse, and he punched the button for the nurse. It felt like all his joints were on fire. He appeared quickly with a little paper cup, and a little plastic pill cup.

"Hey man, sorry for the delay. I had a patient go into a seizure." He was tall and dark-skinned, and always walked like he had music in his head.

"Give me that pill, and all's forgiven." Morgan said.

The nurse smiled and handed both cups over, and Morgan made quick work of them. "It'll take a minute to kick in, just take deep breaths until then, alright?"

"Easy for you to say, man." Morgan tensed against the pain, but that only made it worse.

"I hear you. Alright, how about I tell you about the fine-looking brunette they moved onto my friend's rotation late last night?"

Morgan nodded, already appreciating the distraction.

"He said that she's on morphine, so she mostly sleeps, but she's a thing a beauty even with her eyes shut. Said she kind of reminds him of Snow White, skin light like one of those fancy dolls, hair dark, but not quite black, and deep, coffee-colored eyes, at least when she has them open. It's a bit hard to judge a figure under a hospital gown, but according to my buddy, it doesn't look like it would disappoint." He grinned again.

Morgan frowned at the familiar description. "You know what she's here for?"

"He works post-op, I think he said something about her leg."

Morgan chuckled, wincing when it shook his body. "I think you're talking about my partner."

"Your partner?" The nurse frowned. "Is your partner hot?"

He went to respond, but froze when he saw Hotch at his door, eyebrows raised at the other man's question. "Hey Hotch," he said instead.

The nurse whipped around. "Oh hey there, I was just giving Derek here his meds. I'll leave you two, I've got other patients to see anyway."

He disappeared and Hotch approached the bed, giving Morgan a look. "Did that nurse just ask you if Prentiss was attractive?"

"Uh yeah…how is she doing?"

"Good. She sleeps mostly since they have her on morphine, but she's well enough for a trip back home. How about you?"

Morgan glowered. "That damn doctor says I can't move."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Hotch's mouth, but it never broke through. "You don't have to move. You and Prentiss are both being loaded into an ambulance for the drive back to D.C."

Part of him cringed at the idea, and part of rejoiced at the opportunity to see his partner. "Is she well enough to travel, Hotch?"

"The doctor said as long as she's stable we could transfer her, and she's better than stable." He paused. "Of course, that doesn't mean that it will be a pleasant ride for either of you."

"Yeah, no bathroom," he muttered.

Hotch shrugged. "Could be worse." When Morgan didn't comment he continued. "Prentiss has a catheter."

Morgan cringed, and was relieved when his whole body didn't ache with the movement.

* * *

It wasn't more than an hour or so later when a couple of orderlies showed up, and loaded him onto a gurney. They adjusted the top of the bed so he was slightly elevated, and repositioned the pillows under his knees, which was almost as painful as removing the pillows had been. Earlier the doctor had confirmed that all his medical files – including the results from half a dozen MRIs – had been emailed to his doctor.

They wheeled him through the hospital to the loading bay outside the ER, where they were met by two EMTs, and most of the team. When Reid appeared with his headphones and Ipod, he was so grateful he almost kissed the kid. "Man, you area a lifesaver."

Reid smiled. "I assumed you wouldn't be allowed to read a book."

Morgan scoffed. "I'm barely allowed to wipe my own ass."

Hotch appeared, mouth set into a deep frown. "You have severely damaged most of your joints and several muscles. If the doctors thinks wiping your ass might increase the risk of permanent damage, I suggest you suck it up, and let a nurse do it."

"Yes, sir." If he'd been allowed to move for anything less than necessities, he'd have saluted.

Hotch rolled his eyes. They wheeled him closer then to the ambulance, and when JJ backed away he saw another bed was already in back.

Emily.

"JJ," he called. "How is she?"

The blonde smiled. "She's fine. The meds are pretty strong though, so I don't think she's quite processing everything."

Morgan nodded. He kept his eyes on the other bed as they loaded him on, his focus slowly changing to the figure in the bed. Her dark hair was splayed over the white pillow, and he smiled as he reflected on the nurse's description. She did kind of look like Snow White.

She turned, blinking her eyes open at the clatter of the second bed arriving. Emily smiled at him, and drawled, "Hey."

"Hey. You have no idea how happy I am to see those beautiful brown eyes of yours."

"Mmmhh," she agreed. "Can we grab some coffee after we talk to that witness?"

He started at the sentence, but soon relaxed again. "Yeah, sure. I think I saw a place not far from the police station."

"Oh good…" Her eyes were already drooping again. "Gonna need caffeine to catch this bastard."

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

Morgan watched as she drifted back into her drug-induced sleep. Their beds were only inches apart, barely inches. He reached out, wincing at the action, and let one finger run over her arm.

She was really there. She was alive.

He wondered how many more lives she had left. This was her second time in a year to have major surgery. Morgan hadn't thought much about it, hadn't really wanted to, but it stuck with him now. She would have been drugged like this then too, except he realized, she wouldn't have woken up to friendly, familiar faces. It was some stranger who she saw then, and he knew she must have been afraid.

She'd been so paranoid before she'd gone after Doyle, that with the drugs, she must have been a mess then. He was glad he was with her now, he was glad they were together. This, however, wasn't going to help his issues with her in the field, his overprotective feelings.

Whatever, he thought, they'd get through it. Though it hurt like hell, Morgan reached over and took her hand in his. He brought it up to his mouth and pressed his lips softly to the back of it, before returning it to her bed.

* * *

Emily's first couple days at the hospital in D.C. were a blur, and in fact she was almost certain she spent them sleeping. She had vague memories of the team visiting, of talking to Derek, who was on the other side of the room, and of doctors telling her things, not one of which she could clearly recall.

Now though, she was finally lucid. She must be on a lower dose, because the pain was, while still there, pretty dulled. She coughed and reached for a glass of water, sipping it as the voices on the other side of the room came to a screeching halt.

"Oh, look who's awake!" Garcia squealed, suddenly appearing.

"Hey Pen," she managed.

"Hey yourself. How're you feeling?"

Emily shrugged. "I've felt worse. How's work?"

Garcia waved her hands. "Oh who cares, it's just nice to hear you talking about something other than coconuts."

"Coconuts?"

The tech nodded. "Yep. When you've been awake, you've mostly been talking either like you were on a case, or about coconuts. I asked you why coconuts yesterday, and you told me that you wanted a pina colada."

Emily smirked. "Well, can you blame me?"

"Nope, I say we all get pina coladas after you're both off drugs," she said.

"I second that," Morgan called from his bed.

"Oh!" Garcia said. "I was just telling Derek the plan after you two get out of the hospital, which should be in four days by the way."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Someone made a plan?"

Garcia smiled. "Yes, I did. We're all going to bunk for a bit at Derek's house, so I can nurse you both back to health. You'll be in the guest bedroom, and I'll be on the pullout downstairs. I've already done a ton of research to get prepared. I stocked Derek's freezer with frozen berries, because they have antioxidants to help with inflammation, I picked up this joint supplement thingy and some probiotics, also good for inflammation, and a for you honey, pinapple, ginger and orange juice for vitamin C, all to promote healing. And lots of whole grains and I'll pick up fresh fruits and veggies too to give your battered bodies good fuel to burn And, I'm starting a big batch of chicken noodle soup, it always makes Kevin feel better."

Emily looked over to Derek, who just gave her sort of a helpless look. She turned back to Garcia. "Right…are you planning on being out of work?"

"I can work from a couple laptops for the first week, then I'll do half days for the second week. I have to keep my babies healthy."

"Strauss okayed that?"

"Well, the wicked bitch of the greater Washington D.C. area was quite stunned by Derek's heroic rescue of his partner, and the press got wind of what he did, so she wants the Bureau's resident hero to be well-cared for."

Emily smiled at that and looked at Morgan. "He deserves it."

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more – " Her cell phone buzzed then, and Garcia glanced at it quickly, then sighed. "Of course, count on some damn psycho to ruin my fun. At least I don't have to worry about you two getting yourselves injured."

The tech offered her and then Morgan a pointed look, before kissing his cheek, then hers, and heading out, leaving them alone and Emily lucid for the first time since Pennsylvania.

"How're you feeling?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Alright…how long was I out of it?"

Morgan smiled. "This is day three. You were damn determined to get that pina colada by the way. Never saw you as a tropical paradise drink kinda girl."

"I'm not usually." She flicked her tongue over her lip. "When I was thirteen I was in some island country with my mother, I can't even remember which one now, and I saw people at the hotel drinking out of coconuts. I thought it was fascinating. So I stayed by the pool bar, and when this woman ordered one, and then turned her back, I stole it. I ran off, and hid behind some plants, and drank the whole thing. Then I threw up, a lot. When my mother found me, she was furious. I thought she was going to kill me. Haven't even been able to stomach the smell of a pina colada since."

"Isn't it funny what kinds of things strong painkillers bring up?"

"Yeah, I guess it is…" She cleared her throat. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. In all honesty I'm alright, I just busted up so many places on my body, they figure I'll only get rest for everything if they have me here."

"I'm so sorry, Derek. I – "

"I'm not. You're alive. I'd be sorry if you were dead, and I could have helped you." Emily bit her lip, but didn't respond, so he continued. "Does this suck? Yes, very much so, but it's a small price to pay to have you here talking to me."

She was silent a moment longer. "They're sure you're going to be alright? That eventually you'll go back to being Derek Morgan, superhero?"

He nodded. "As long as I do what they tell me, and get myself some good rehabilitative therapy, I'll be back to kicking down doors in no time." Then he smiled.

Emily did too, more in relief that at the joke. "Derek, what you did…I don't think I could ever thank you enough or even repay you."

"You want to repay me," he said, "Get yourself better, and back in the field by my side. I miss you when you're not there."

She smiled. "I miss you too."

He smiled back, all his teeth showing. "Good then, I guess it's a blessing in disguise that we're laid up. I get the feeling we're going to be spending a lot of time together. We may even get sick of each other."

Emily let her smile open wider. "Oh, I doubt that."

End.

* * *

_Sorry this was delayed. My shoulder injuries are flaring up at the moment, and typing is a huge trigger for pain and inflammation. Since a friend wanted to see Morgan and Prentiss recuperating together, I'll write a follow-up oneshot, but that may be a while coming. As with my other promised stories, the more you nag, the sooner it will come, because that will put it on my mind. _

_Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed this story!_


End file.
